


Hit Me Up

by Frothy Mouth (MyDaedricGravemind)



Series: "Froth Me, Baby, One More Time-" [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed, Modern AU - Fandom
Genre: A Really Busy Diner, A Regular Visiter, M/M, Run Away Thoughts, Stalking, THIS WORK IS NOT ABANDONED, Which Is The Perfect Atmosphere For A Froth, fantisizing, musings, observation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-19 12:11:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5966998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyDaedricGravemind/pseuds/Frothy%20Mouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I adoringly watch the boy wisp about the supper pub with the charm of a faerie; like he owns the damn place. I suppose in a way he does-</p>
<p>-the way he holds me captive...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time To Think

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EatSnowAndDie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EatSnowAndDie/gifts).



> This was a challenge/demand of a sort.  
> The prompt= Roth Fantasizes Over Jacob In A Modern Pub Setting.
> 
> The result...is going to be in three parts.

~

 

_I wish he would just hold still for a moment._

_Then the second he does, I wish he'd bloody move again..._

 

Maxwell is leaning heavily on his elbow at the bar's top, his drink growing warmer from the heat of his hand gripped around it, musing on the the boy's fluid motions and luscious tones as he took an order, refilled their glasses, then 'tushing' them on their minor complaints. Hell, he sounds like he is asking ever customer to bed were they could forget their mif's and lose themselves to his stripping moans and banters.

_Maybe thats just what **I'd** like to hear._

The boy sweeps into the kitchen where the sizzle of oil is crackles and spatters. A second later, he's back out and slides behind the counter of the bar and tops of a gent's drink then leans his own elbow on the top to match Roth's.

He nods at his drink, then sighs out. "-Top off, old man?" His innocent jib sends a thrill through Max as he pictures the unitentional offer.

He takes in those hazel eyes, guarding his internal intensity by keeping his own eyes dull and distant. He can't keep the tone out of his voice though as he jibs back. "Hit me up, darling..."

The boy's name tag reads: Hello, my name is Jacob:). Maxwell never knew what it was about that tag...about the lad-that managed to bring him back here every Thursday ever after. Must be his damnable charm and the way he looked at everyone as if they were the only thing he cared about once he clapped eyes to em.

Jacob chuckles honestly, his brows dancing up his forehead, shaking his shoulders alittle. With a kiss of glass, he pours Max cup full then barbs gently.

"You should smile, you ol' buzzard...it would do a chap like you some good."

Max eyes him seriously.

_Am I just dream'in again?_

Then a customer calls out and there he goes agian-Max watches him closely now, possessivly under the dark of his eyesbrows.

He relaxes and just resumes his own routine. Studying him.

Admiring him.

Max starts at the top-he takes in Jacobs moist collar that grasps tightly at the warm pulse of his neck and it's line. The gleam in his eyes as he takes in their every desire. The blush of his deep cheeks from the rush of his love for his work and too much of it. The devilish smirk of a young man satisfied by his labor and embarrased to accept the praise that results from his efforts. The half empty pen balancing in the crook of his wide belled ear. The grease stains on his shirt beneath the apron. The steady, impatient gait of his gangly, well muscled legs. The dark toes of his work shoes-wet from the dish washing no doubt...and then its over..

..time to start all over again.

Its always like everything fades away around him while he consumably watches Jacob float from tabletop to tabletop; too busy to slow-too busy to notice Roth's hungry eyes devour his young form and the appatite that is only growing with every visit. Max comes only at the peak business hours, knowing, that Jacob is only barely able to catch his drink order before the mobs take him away and leave Max alone. Alone to watch him as he wants, wishes and indulges the deep aches of his imagination.

He only stays for one hour then swallows his tasteless, watered down drink and leaves his due(with a fine tip). It is the same every time.

Somday he knows it will be different, he's just got to take the step first...

Maxwell smiles at a thought as he pushes out of the bar.

Once _the time is right._

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short-but not the end;)


	2. Helpless Faults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob...you damn yourself;)
> 
> ESAD..you happy yet?

 

~

 

Jacob finishes stocking the liquir cabinet and with a loud huff threw persed lips he stands, back popping, straining against its new posture.

Jacob winced. "Easy there-" To his angry muscles who grumbled against him. It had been a fabulous day for the supper pub, the throngs had swelled into an unending wave of hungry mouths and thirsty throats with ready hands to pay for all. The owner was more then happy and immediatly after, began anticipating the next days crowds-he couldnt wait for the 'morro- eager for the next day's 'cash cows'...

Jacob groaned in good humor at his state and thinking of an identical day.

"..Cant wait indeed, I'm gonna need new soles..."

He peeked at the seam of his work shoes almost wincing at the sight; he sighed, chuckling. "But first-I think I'm gonna have a drink..."

He bends and grasps a bottle of gin between his thumb and index finger then lesurly swings the cabinet door closed, its final click the sign that his day is done and his sore feet may have their due rest...

Till a gravelly voice begs pardon. "..Mind if I join you?"

Jacob sighs inside. _Must of forgot the door..._ Then turns with a smile and wince of apology- Ah- he recognizes the fellow.

"Isnt it a little past nap time, _old man?"_ He doesnt know why he teases him so; 'suppose he teases everyone this way...

The mystery man's smirk is mild, the wrinkles around his elusive eyes giving the gesture away more then the draw of the firm mouth itself, as he carefully aproaches the bar top.

"Our mothers should get after us then.."

Jacob almost laughed but found himself staring instead. He had never realized how deep and rasped and bloody awful the man's voice was, as if he abuses substances or breathes glass...Jacob realized the man was simply staring back. He looked down and sighed at himself- his mind was _not_ thinking as it should be.

He shrugs again ackwardly. "I just..forgot to lock the door-not to be rude-sir, but today was just..rather busy-"

He attempted as an explanation for his conduct to the stranger, but the stranger in a more then familiar tone inturrupted his excuse.

"-I noticed. I wasn't gonna trouble you but I just needed one drink..." His casual eyes are loose but his gaze is fixed with intention. Jacob looks at the bottle still in his hand with a weary thought and contemplates the offer.

_Let the man have his damn drink, with those eyes he could use one._

He sighs again but welcomes the man with a nod and a smile. "Take a bloody seat..."

The man nods in silent thanks and draws himself carefully into the nearest.

Jacob leans on the counter top, finding his eyes wandering over the stranger, his brows creasing when he saw the taut, pale skin pulled over knotted meat. He looked old- not weak- but worn old as if he had spent a lifetime pushing himself without mercy or maybe worse. _"-I just needed one drink..."_ The poor sod settled, Jacob quickly snapped out of his daze to unstop the bottle. He bent to snatch two cups, not seeing just how much the man needed that drink, how his eyes burned into the younger's body. The intensity that quenched itself the moment the boy turned back around.

"Here." Jacob topped the cup up, the man grunting in reply as he took it.

Jacob topped his own and took a mouthful in, swishing it so it burned at his tastebuds evenly then washed it warmly down his throat.

The man downed the whole cup in one swallow. Jacob frowned inside, the man looked absolutly knackered.

When he reached for his back pocket, Jacob tushed him, as he did everyone in his diner. "Ah-ah. No worries-old man."

His pale eyes regarded him patiently.

"What I mean is that _this_ is on the house."

Jacob abandones his own cup and lifted the bottle to his lips and after a throat bobbing, eye watering draw, he gasped and wiped his lips with his thumb then handed the bottle to the silent man. He shook the neck at him when he hesitated, his eyes warm and friendly.

"Looks as if you could use it tonight.." _Another explanation?_ This man unnerved him with those haunted, lonely eyes and he wanted to help if he could. Like he always did.

The pale eyes held their binding tether for a moment longer before the hid behind their lids. "Bless you.." Is all he managed before he took the damn bottle.

Jacob leaned back against the bottle shelf, resting his elbows on the top, his own eyes cast down as the day continued to press down on him and his tired thoughts muddled into daydream and malancoly...

The man's gaze was fixed unknowingly on him again, the bottle nearly half gone as the silence resided comfortably between them and their private thoughts.

"..Whats your name?" Jacob peeks up from under his brow, chin still resting at his shoulder.

When the man takes another slow swig in silent thought, Jacob shrugs his lips.

"..Unless you want me to keep calling you _old man_..." There-he saw a tug at those eye corners again..

"Call me what you like..." His voice was despondant, disconected even as his pale eyes roved Jacob's face, searching for somthing.

 _Trying to find somthing?_ Now that he thought about it, he looked as if he had had a few already. _..What had this man been through tonight?_

"Alright, you mysterious old goat.." He teased gently, provoking another grunt. "..if you like games, we aught to drink and play, dont you think..?"

 _Thats better._ He had kindled somthing in those eyes...and even a smirk. _Right on, Jacob._

The old gent sidled up closer to the bar top and rested his gnarled wieght on his lean elbows, his eyes roaming about before resting inside the boy's soul again. His tone betrayed nothing of what his eyes were guilty of. He then asked casualy as if Jacob were imagining everything..

"So who are you slapping with the damn tab?" It had been a long day...

Jacob shook his head. _Easy..let him be_. He took the bottle and tipping it skyward, he drew again, feeling the cool liquid's warmth wreste with the aches in his mind and body-the heat that blushed from his exposed skin left goosebumps that puckered upon his arms and neck...and the skin along the waist of his jeans when the raised arm lifted away his filthy shirt...

".. _Me_. " Jacob all but gasped, staring once again into those pale irises stubbornly, with careless ease sliding the bottle back. "So _drink_...old man."

That light shone again, the man licking his inner cheeks deeply before taking the bottle again...their eyes met-and held...

Even as he two took a long drain from the bottle, his veined throat tight and tense, Jacob watched every mouthful wrench its way down to his belly... _Why am I thinking this way?_

 He sighs again but the man is staring like he can read his thoughts. Such a strange thought if true is actually a bit comforting...no one had ever understood or even cared about _just plain old_ _Jacob_. So what if this stranger could? What if he wanted him too...

Jacob eyed the man seriously, his drink glazed gaze searching too. The man gazed back...and held again.

"..is your name- _Philip_..?"

The man's eyes just glowed, his lips stretching in his first smile as he quietly rasped.

"Bottom's up, love.."

Jacob sneered with determination, his hand slowly wrapping around the last of the bottle. He rolled up his eyes and drained the last.

_You're on, old man..._

 

_~_

 

 


End file.
